The Quest for the Templar Treasure
by Raven in Red
Summary: Struggling college junior Antonia Davenport is coerced by Ian's sweet-talking ways into aiding in the search for the treasure of the Knights Templar, but her conscience quickly leads her to the good guys' side. RileyOC.
1. An Opportunity in the Stacks

_**The Quest for the Templar Treasure**_

_By: Raven in Red_

Struggling college junior Antonia Davenport is coerced by Ian's sweet-talking ways into aiding in the search for the treasure of the Knights Templar, but her conscience quickly leads her to the good guys' side. RileyOC.

**Chapter One**: An Opportunity in the Stacks

If it hadn't been for a charming, accented, well-spoken, blonde-haired man approaching me in the Library of Congress on that one fateful day, I wouldn't be telling you this story now.

I was a lowly college junior, attempting to earn an online history degree from a practically no-name college hundreds of miles away while simultaneously working full-time at a diner … NOT exactly a glamorous lifestyle. I lived each day out of a crappy little apartment outside of D.C., always wondering how much longer I would last (at least in terms of finances). I had always ached for adventure and travel, but I hardly expected the best opportunity of my life to just be dropped right in front of me out of nowhere.

I first saw the mystery man when I was browsing the stacks in the Library of Congress, looking for a particular book on the history of early American colonialism for an exam that was coming up in my online class. I was browsing with intent while he merely looked bored. His eyes glazed over the spines too quickly for him to catch even a single title. He also had a mysterious air about him, as if he had a greater purpose in mind.

Deciding to ignore the man and focus on my work, I found myself a table and settled down with a notebook in hand and the book opened in front of me. After several minutes, however, I just so happened to glance up and see the mystery man staring right at me.

"Excuse me…" I awkwardly addressed him. "Is there something I can help you with?" Sure, I was used to being hit on by guys from time to time, but this man was sort of fascinating, just based on how he carried himself. I timidly gathered my long auburn curls behind my head as he approached me.

"Actually, yes, as a matter of fact," the man said. To my surprise, he took a seat right across from me at the table. "My name's Ian Howe." He had a beautiful English accent, and he was certainly presenting himself quite well. I was impressed.

"Antonia Davenport," I said, politely shaking his hand.

"Antonia…" Ian said, taking a moment to ponder my name. "How would you like to go on the adventure of a lifetime?"

A laugh escaped my lips before I even realized it, earning me a barrage of stern looks from the other visitors around me. When it finally died down, I leaned in and whispered, "What are you trying to pull on me?"

"Have you ever heard of the treasure of the Knights Templar?" Ian asked, pairing his question with a smirk.

"Yeah, of course," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Who doesn't love a good story about buried treasure, right?"

"Exactly," said Ian. "Well, through recent events, some colleagues and I have come together on the basis that it may not be just a story." I cautiously nodded, signaling for him to continue. "We've got a clue under our belts that might lead us closer to it, but it's taking us ages to figure out."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, holding my hands up to silence him, "where do I come in with all of this? It sounds like you're just telling me some _Indiana Jones_ type story."

"Well, we could use a bit of help," Ian said, putting on a serious face. "We need to bring an extra person in on this to help streamline the process, so to speak."

"Okay…" I said slowly. "What would you need me to do?" Obviously, I was still maintaining an air of caution around this complete stranger, but that didn't prevent me from being dreadfully curious. After all, he might have really been on to something.

"Well, what are your areas of expertise, per se?" asked Ian. "What are you good at?"

Slightly flustered from such an obscure question, my answer was flushed and choppy. "I can, um, I know my history pretty well… um, I can shoot. I practice at a gun club every week. Um… and I'm _really_ good with riddles and puzzles. I can figure out pretty much anything once I put my mind to it."

"Perfect," said Ian, smirking again. "All of that could be incredibly useful to us."

"Who's 'us'?" I questioned, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms across my chest.

"Myself and a few colleagues," said Ian. "We've been working on this for over a year, and we've hit a dead end."

"Where has it taken you so far?" I asked, beginning to warm up to his proposition.

"Oh, everywhere," said Ian. "Every book and Internet page we could find. We haven't found _anything_ that could be of value."

"Wow," I said, thoroughly intrigued. "What's the clue you've been trying to work with?"

"The secret lies with Charlotte," said Ian. "It was scrawled on a piece of parchment that's been kept by the family of one of my colleagues for generations."

"What's this colleague's name?" I asked. All of this was getting me more and more curious by the moment.

"Benjamin Gates," said Ian. The second the name popped out of his mouth, everything made sense.

"That's it," I said, slamming my fists down onto my book. "I'm in."

"Really?" Ian's face lit up. "Why? Do you know him?"

"I know _of_ him," I said, "and his family. Everyone says they're conspiracy theorists because the treasure is tied to the Freemasons but all they ever do just makes me curious. If Ben Gates is working on this, then it'll _definitely_ get somewhere."

"So, maybe you can help us out," said Ian, smirking yet again. I had a feeling that I would be seeing a _lot_ of that smirk. "You definitely sound enthusiastic." Sure, I was excited, but I had to admit: Ian was quite charming, and his charm was definitely drawing me in.

"I would love to," I said, smirking in return and holding out my hand for him to shake. Good Lord, what the hell was I getting myself into?

Once we both sat back, I put on my thinking face. Basically, whenever I was deep in thought about pretty much anything, I would lean back, place a fist under my chin, and stare into space. Until I figured out what I was trying to figure out or I simply gave up, I pretty much wouldn't speak at all.

"You alright?" Ian asked after a little while of that. Only when he waved his hand in front of my face did I snap out of it.

"Oh!" I gasped, my face flushing slightly. "That's just my thinking face."

"Were you … thinking of anything in particular?" Ian inquired, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, I was," I said, turning to a clean page in my notebook and wrote CHARLOTTE in bold letters across the top. "You said you've gotten nowhere so far with this Charlotte clue, right?"

"Exactly," said Ian, coming around the other side of the table so he could sit next to me instead.

"What exactly have you ousted so far?" I asked.

"Oh, boy," Ian sighed. "We poured through old census records and history books looking for every person with the name Charlotte that we could possibly find, everything from middle-aged farmers' housewives to established poets and members of royalty, going no further than the mid-1800s when the clue was passed on to Ben's family." As he spoke, I jotted down _Charlotte – name of a person_. "Then," Ian continued, "we looked up every Charlotte Street, Avenue, Lane, etc. and came up dry; same thing happened with cities or towns named Charlotte." I added _Cities/towns/streets_ to my list. Everything was slowly coming together.

"Can I see the actual physical clue?" I asked. Right on cue, Ian pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. On the paper was a digital scan of a small piece of parchment, with _The Secret lies with Charlotte_ written in impeccable penmanship. "Obviously, the person who wrote this down was someone well-educated," I observed, "otherwise the handwriting would not be this formal." Ian leaned in a little closer. "And look: the words 'secret' and 'Charlotte' are both capitalized."

"What does that tell us?" asked Ian, his eyes flaring with curiosity.

"Up until the late 1800s or so, it was commonplace for people to capitalize nouns like 'secret,' 'happiness,' or 'patience,'" I began, adding _Secret, Charlotte both capitalized_ to my list. "But, look," I said, pointing to the word 'Charlotte.' "Names were _always_ capitalized, and 'Charlotte' means nothing when it's in all lowercase, so it _must_ be a name." I jotted down _Charlotte = name_.

"That makes sense," said Ian, "but that's where we've hit a dead end."

"Look," I said, pointing to the few points on my list. "You've exhausted the possibility of Charlotte being the name of a person or a place, right?" Ian nodded. "But what about _things_?"

"Things?" Ian repeated, looking confused.

"Yes, _things_," I said, an excited smiled spreading across my face, "_things_ named Charlotte that are neither people nor places."

"Antonia, that's brilliant," Ian said in amazement. "So, where do we start?"

"I need a computer," I said, "and I didn't bring my laptop with me. Let's go back to my place so we can work this lead a little more." As quickly as I could, I gathered my things into my backpack and the two of us began making our way out.

"I hope you realize how big of a breakthrough you've made for us," Ian praised me as we made our way to the nearest subway. Like a gentleman, he offered me his arm, which I graciously took.

"Oh, I do," I said, my face holding a bright grin. "And I'm glad I could help."

* * *

Over Chinese leftovers and several mugs of coffee, Ian and I spent hours pondering over our latest Charlotte lead. Each relevant web page we found was leading us to about three or four more, which then made the process even more of a headache. Eventually, Ian had tired himself out to the point where I ordered him to give himself a break and take a nap on my couch while I kept at it.

After another couple of hours, it was well past midnight when I _finally_ stumbled across something that _finally_ appeared to be more than promising. "Ian!" I hissed, reaching over to shake him a little. "Ian, wake up! I think I've got something!"

Ian was at my side in an instant, reading over my shoulder from the webpage I had pulled up. "The _Charlotte_ was originally a First Fleet British ship built to bring convicts to a penal colony in Australia," I began. "She was lost off of Newfoundland in 1818 en route to Jamaica from London, and get this: several of the crew on board as _well_ as the captain were _Freemasons_."

"That has to be it," Ian declared. "Oh, my God, that _has_ to be it!"

"Is this the next clue?" I asked excitedly.

"It has to be," Ian said with a smile.

"So, how do we find it?" I asked, jumping from my seat. I couldn't help but notice that my small stature only barely brought me up to Ian's shoulders.

"That's just it," said Ian, his smile only growing wider. "That's our next step!"

"Our next step towards finding the _treasure_!" I squealed with excitement. Out of nowhere, I found Ian lifting me right up from the floor and spinning me all around the room. I could do nothing but sit back and laugh like a little schoolgirl. Once our euphoric laughter had finally died down and I was back on my feet, I went to my notepad and ripped off a sheet of paper onto which I scribbled my cell phone number. "Here," I said to Ian, handing him the paper. "Call me tomorrow so we can get the ball rolling on this. Until then, you should go get yourself some sleep."

"Will do," said Ian, patting me on the shoulder. "Until tomorrow, little Miss Treasure Hunter."

* * *

**Author's Note**: This is a complete rewrite of my original story that had the same name, since I kind of hated how the first one was going, so no worries! Just read, review, and enjoy!


	2. Choose Your Team Wisely

_**The Quest for the Templar Treasure**_

_By: Raven in Red_

Struggling college junior Antonia Davenport is coerced by Ian's sweet-talking ways into aiding in the search for the treasure of the Knights Templar, but her conscience quickly leads her to the good guys' side. RileyOC.

**Chapter Two**: Choose Your Team … Wisely

To my great pleasure, the day after my discovery with Ian was my weekly day off from work, so I was just relaxing in my apartment and catching up on some much-needed self-pampering time when my cell phone rang.

"Hello?" I said when I answered.

"Hello, Antonia, it's Ian," said a familiar English-accented voice.

"Hey, Ian!" I said cheerfully. "What's up? What's on the treasure hunting schedule for today?"

"I wanted to come by and pick you up so I could bring you to meet the rest of this team of ours," Ian announced. "I told them all about your little discovery, and they'd be delighted to work with you."

"That sounds great," I said. "I can be ready in half an hour."

"Perfect," said Ian. "I'll come by as soon as I can."

"Awesome," I said, "I'll see you then." Once I hung up the phone, I got right down to business. First, I changed from my ratty PJs to a sophisticated blouse, jacket, and pair of jeans. I also brushed my bed-headed curls into a high ponytail. Next, I gathered together my laptop, notebooks, pens, and printed webpages about the _Charlotte_ into a comfortable messenger bag. Finally, I met Ian at the door when the buzzer rang.

"Ready to go?" he asked, offering me his arm. With a smile, I gently looped mine around his.

"Ready and willing," I said as we made our way down the hall. "And by the way, this morning I printed out just about every shred of info I could find about the _Charlotte_, so we should be good to go."

"Excellent," said Ian. "What would we have done without you?"

Following a relatively short subway ride, Ian and I reached his apartment, where two men had already gathered. Being that his apartment was _much_ nicer than my own, I immediately felt a little out of place walking in, especially when I realized that both men's gazes were directed right at me.

"So, this is our new sidekick?" one of the men spoke up as he approached me. "Ben Gates," he introduced himself. "Antonia, right?"

"Antonia Davenport," I said, politely shaking his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, but let's skip the formalities and have everyone just call me Toni."

"Alright, Toni," said Ben, leading me to the coffee table where everyone was taking a seat. The table was littered with all sorts of papers, books, computers, and empty coffee cups. "Please, have a seat and tell us _all_ about this discovery of yours. Ian certainly seemed _thrilled_ about it."

"I think there's one more introduction in order," said Ian, gesturing between me and the second guest. My eyes zeroed in on him faster than I could help, and a cute smile spread across my lips before I had a chance to calm it.

"I'm … Riley Poole," he stammered, reaching out to shake my hand. One look at his immediate surroundings told me that he was the team's resident computer genius.

"Toni," I said, smiling right at him and subsequently bringing a flush to his cheeks. I was probably blushing a little bit myself, come to think of it. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Y- … you, too," Riley stuttered. I couldn't help but giggle just a bit at the fiery blush that simply wouldn't leave his face.

Riley was the epitome of that boy-next-door type that a lot of girls fall for without being willing to admit it. He was cute, awkward, and obviously smart considering how much high-end computer equipment he had spread out on all sides of him. We spent a good several seconds staring at each other before I snapped back into reality.

"Okay, boys," I began, retrieving my pile of articles from my bag and tossing them down onto the table. "Let's get to work."

* * *

After only some gentle convincing from both myself and Ben, our little team of treasure hunters had our first goal in place: tracking down and finding the _Charlotte_, wherever it might be, and searching every inch of it for some sort of clue regarding the treasure. By early evening, we were packed up and done for the day.

"So, I'll see you guys tomorrow," I said, gathering my things and giving goodbye hugs to Ian, Ben, and Riley. However, once I had made my way out into the hallway, Ben ran to catch up with me.

"Hey, Toni," he said, coming to a stop in front of me. "Why don't you let Riley and me take you out for dinner tonight? I was just thinking we could touch base on a few more things."

"Sounds great," I said cheerfully, turning so I could follow Ben instead, with Riley following soon after.

Only about twenty minutes later, I was situated with two of my new teammates in a cozy booth at a cute little Italian restaurant. We made small talk over drinks and appetizers, but eventually Ben clearly had some business to discuss.

"So, Toni," Ben began as we started on our meals, "how did Ian even find you in the first place?"

"Just yesterday, I was studying for an exam in the Library of Congress, and he just approached me out of nowhere," I replied, still a little amazed from the events of the previous day. "At first, he kinda seemed like a creep, to be honest, until I actually started believing him."

"How'd you figure out the clue when it took us _ages_?" asked Riley, sounding _very_ cynical.

"Well," I began, clearing my throat like I was preparing to tell a long tale, "I pretty much grew up playing puzzle games with my dad instead of playing sports or watching T.V., so I've always been more of a thinker, per se." Ben seemed to approve of my upbringing, so I then reached into my bag and pulled out the sheet of notes I had compiled with Ian the previous day and handed it to him. "I guess the only way I can explain it is that I'm really good at putting things together. Also, _Riley_, I'm not exactly trying to usurp you guys here. I'm only trying to help."

"And she's done a very good job so far," Ben adding, smiling at me before glaring a bit at Riley.

"Why, thank you, Ben," I said. Once Ben's attention was elsewhere, I locked eyes with Riley and passed him a quick wink. Then, another thought came to mind. "So, how did Ian come into all of this? I mean, it's not like I know him that well, or for very long."

"Pretty much the same way he found you, now that I think about it," remarked Ben, tapping his chin. "He came up to us one day out of the blue, saying that he'd heard we had our sights set on the treasure, and it just grew from there."

"What does he do for you guys?" I asked. "I mean, Ben, you're the history and clues guy and Riley works the computers and technology angle, but Ian doesn't exactly seem to do much on his own."

"He pays for everything," Riley spoke up in a sigh.

"Why do you say it like that?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

Ben was the one to explain Riley's lack of enthusiasm. "Until Ian showed up, we couldn't have handled this on our own. We had very little money to spare, and research of this caliber is expensive. Basically, Ian funds our entire operation."

"And we're the ones doing all the actual _work_," Riley said bitterly.

"Hmm," I muttered, my curiosity peaking again. "Where does the money actually come from?" Both Ben and Riley fell silent, and they were sharing an odd sort of look between each other. "What?" I asked, looking back and forth between them. "Am I missing something?"

"That's actually a … really good question," Ben remarked. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he began tapping his chin again.

"Wait a second," I said, suddenly a little suspicious. "Exactly how long have you guys actually been working with Ian? He said over a year."

"Yeah, pretty much," said Riley. "More like two years, to be exact."

I nodded slowly. "So, you've been letting this man fund your research for about two _years_ without knowing where his money is coming from? Don't you think that's a little sketchy?" Clearly, Ben and Riley were completely flustered as a result of my observation, and it was obvious that my suspicion had paid off.

"Whoa…" Riley muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"I can't believe we never thought of that," said Ben. "I mean, he's a big gambler, so we kind of just assumed that most of it came from that."

"Let's all just agree to each keep at least half an eye on him," I suggested, effectively tabling the discussion. "That way, if something _does_ happen, we're at least a little prepared for it."

"Good idea," said Ben.

"Agreed," Riley added.

"So, now that that's out of the way," I said, choosing to change the subject to something more optimistic, "do we have any ideas on how we're actually going to _find_ the _Charlotte_? We never actually got to the specifics during our little get-together earlier."

"Only basics so far," said Ben. "We know from your findings that it was lost off of Newfoundland, so our best bet is somewhere north of the Arctic Circle, maybe around Greenland."

"I could program a computerized tracking model that extrapolates potential locations from trends in wind and water current patterns for the area," said Riley. My face immediately flared with excitement.

"Wow," I said, "you really _are_ the team's resident tech genius!"

"Thanks," said Riley with a slight smile, his cheeks glowing pink.

"Riley can do just about anything that has to do with computers," said Ben. "_Anything_."

"Hmm…" I said, pretending to be suspicious. "Should I be keeping an eye on Riley, too?" My comment brought a delightful slew of laughter to our little trio of treasure hunters.

"No, I think he can behave," said Ben, agreeing to play along. "But I'm fully prepared to put him in time-out if given a reason to."

"No, I don't think that'll be necessary," I joked, smirking at the adorable techie across the table from me. "He looks like he's a good boy." Riley's face was growing redder until he finally burst out laughing again. "It's okay, Riley; we're only teasing," I said, reaching over and patting his hand. "I promise I'll stop."

"For now," said Ben, passing me a wicked smile.

"Exactly; for _now_," I agreed. "Riley should be safe for a little while."

"So, Toni," Ben said, finally giving Riley a moment of peace, "you said you're in college?"

"Sort of," I said, sighing a little. "I'm taking online courses so I can get a history degree from Green Mountain University in Vermont. I was thinking of living at school like any old college student, but there was no way for me to pay for that, and my parents can't support me, so I also work full-time to pay for everything."

"Sounds pretty rough," said Ben, nodding his sympathy. "Is it at least going well?"

"As well as it can under the circumstances," I said with a shrug. "I mean, when you've gotta put a roof over your head, you do what you've gotta do, right?" Both Ben and Riley nodded. "The only complaint I have is that I wish I could keep just a _little_ more of my money for myself instead of giving about two thirds of it to the government."

"Ouch," said Riley, his face contorting. "Well, when we find the treasure, you can count on a nice finder's fee."

"Yeah, well, until that day, I'm not getting my hopes up too much," I pointed out.

"Where do you work?" asked Riley.

"I'm a waitress and hostess at the Four Points Café and Diner," I said. "I get one day off a week, which is today of all days, but I make quite a bit in tips, which is what pretty much keeps me afloat."

"I've never been there," Riley muttered, probably more to himself than anyone else.

"Swing by sometime when I'm working," I suggested with a friendly smile. "Trust me; you'll love it there."

"Will do," said Riley, his smile so fleeting that I barely even caught it.

* * *

That Saturday evening, after a hectic week of work (which included a surprise visit from none other than Riley!) and a few enjoyable days of collaborating with my "treasure hunting team," I decided to relax in the form of my weekly hour of practice at my favorite gun club.

Almost immediately after my 21st birthday, I applied for a Conceal-and-Carry handgun permit and was quickly accepted, an action that was inspired by my move to the D.C. area. Suddenly hundreds of miles away from my less-than-supportive parents and with no physical prowess to speak of, I had to do _something_ to keep myself safe.

Because I was officially licensed and had booked private time at the club, it was just me, my safety glasses, my earplugs, and my pretty little Glock G26. With every round I shot, week after week, I got a little bit better and a little bit more confident.

Towards the end of my hour, I finally pulled back my last target to find (to my great delight) just about every shot comfortably close to the center. I had been doing well lately, and this was just making me feel even better than I already been.

"Impressive," said a familiar voice behind me. I clearly hadn't anticipated anyone else in the range with me, being that the range supervisor was in the glass-walled adjoining room in case of emergencies, so I gasped and clapped a hand to my heart out of shock.

"Ian!" I cried out when I found out who the visitor was. "You should know better! I have a _gun_ in my hand!" I couldn't help but notice how much he was towering over my petite 5'2" frame.

"I do apologize, Antonia," Ian said calmly, placing his hands gently on my shoulders to steady me as I took deep breaths. I definitely did _not_ take well to startling situations. "I definitely did not mean to startle you."

"It's alright," I said once I was finally calm. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see our lady in action," said Ian. He was eyeing my practice target with genuine approval in his eyes. "Well done, from what I can see here."

"Thank you," I said, albeit a little impatiently. "I just wish you had told me you were coming."

"I'll keep that in mind now," said Ian.

"Well, you came just in the nick of time," I announced. Following protocol to the letter, I locked the safety on my gun and stowed it properly away into its case. "I'm just finishing up here."

"Excellent," said Ian. "Could I possibly take you out for a drink?" _There he goes, pouring on the charm again_, I thought to myself. _He starts by scaring me half to death, and now he's asking me out … lovely!_

"Sure," I said, finally cracking a smile, "just as long as I can drop this off at home first."

A little while later, after I had dropped my gun and practice targets off at my apartment, Ian played the part of the truest of gentlemen and took me out to a lovely little cocktail bar just a few blocks away from my apartment.

"Oh, I've been here before," I observed as we walked in. "It's one of my favorites!"

"Well, I'll have to remember that," said Ian, securing an arm around my shoulders. To my great surprise, he actually leaned down and gave me a quick little kiss on the side of my forehead. Despite my budding interest in him, I still thought of Riley and Ben and reminded myself to keep an air of caution around Ian. Maybe now that I had him in a slightly more personal setting, I would actually be able to get some real answers from him.

Once we had settled ourselves down at a comfy little table and our drinks had arrived, I found Ian to be smirking again.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking right back as I took a sip from my martini.

"I just can't believe how fortunate we've been to find you," Ian said smoothly. "You've been a wonderful addition to the team."

"Well, thank you. I'm glad I was able to help," I replied, blushing a little from his compliment.

"You're really very clever, you know," Ian continued. "After all, you single-handedly outsmarted three men who had been working on this for two years, and you did that all in one _day_."

"Okay, what's going on, Ian?" I asked playfully as I giggled. "Did you just bring me here to relentlessly praise me?" Ian quickly joined in my laughter.

"I am merely being a gentleman by offering my personal thanks to the lady whose help we have so recently come to appreciate," Ian corrected me.

"That's very sweet of you, but you've all already thanked me enough," I said, my smile genuine. "I'm already having the time of my _life_, and we've barely even cracked the surface. How much more thanks can one girl deserve?"

"I'll let you know as we go along," Ian said, winking at me.

"So," I began, twirling my swizzle stick around the glass with my finger. "I had dinner with Ben and Riley a few nights ago, and they just so happened to mention that you've been funding this whole operation."

"Correct," said Ian. There was a smile on his face, but I could detect the slightest bit of nervousness in his voice. Bingo.

"So, I was just wondering, how do you manage that?" I asked as innocently as possible. "I mean, it must be expensive, right?"

"It's very costly, yes," said Ian. Any nervousness or hesitance had been quickly wiped away, which was another dead giveaway. "I must admit that I have a bit of a fascination with the occasional game of chance, but I've definitely become quite successful in the pursuit. Most of what I make on the side goes straight to funding this little adventure of ours."

"Cool," I said, faking my enthusiasm as well as I could. "Well, we're certainly fortunate to have you. It's not like we could get by on my pocket change, right?" Both of us quickly began to laugh, which (thankfully) steered us away from that _very_ sensitive topic.

However, once our little "date" was over and Ian had called me a cab and placed a parting kiss on my cheek, I whipped out my phone and dialed the first number that came to mind.

"Riley?" I blurted once he answered. "I need to talk to you."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hmm… it looks like our dear Toni might be on to something in regards to our resident bad guy. Well, we'll just have to wait and see…


	3. Charlotte, Fair Charlotte

_**The Quest for the Templar Treasure**_

_By: Raven in Red_

Struggling college junior Antonia Davenport is coerced by Ian's sweet-talking ways into aiding in the search for the treasure of the Knights Templar, but her conscience quickly leads her to the good guys' side. RileyOC.

**Chapter Three**: Charlotte, Fair Charlotte

Instead of going straight home, I had the cab driver bring me straight to Riley's apartment. When he met me at the door, he took one look at me, completely out of sorts from what I had just uncomfortably discovered, and quickly ushered me inside. I took in his messy, boyish apartment in about five seconds and was instantly much more comfortable there than I had been with Ian.

"What happened?" Riley's voice was just the slightest bit panicky. "Did Ian hurt you?"

"No, he didn't hurt me," I assured him, appreciative of his obvious concern for me. "But we were right about him."

"Right in what way?" Riley asked. When my expression still didn't change, he gently led me over to his couch and sat me down. He sat right down beside me soon after. "By the way, sorry that the place is such a mess. I don't usually have girls around that often."

"I don't care about that," I said with a friendly smile. "It's all good."

"So, what were we right about with Ian?" Riley asked again.

"He's definitely hiding something," I said with a heavy sigh. "He took me out for a drink tonight, and I asked him about where his money comes from, and he went straight to the gambling excuse. I mean, after two years, I know that this has gotten _really_ expensive, so a few hands of poker and a couple slots here and there can't explain it _all_."

"Well, I never actually expected _better_ from the guy," sighed Riley, "but we usually try to just keep our mouths shut about it since we wouldn't have gotten this far if it hadn't been for him."

"That attitude can't last forever, and you know that," I pointed out. "Eventually, if we're not careful, everything could all come crashing down right around us."

"Don't you think that's a little melodramatic?" Riley jabbed. Yep, he was definitely the cynical one.

"It's not melodramatic," I insisted. "It's being _realistic_. I'm really trying to keep us all centered here. If anything, I want you guys to be seeing the stepping stones across the river and not just the light at the end of the tunnel."

"Very … poetic," said Riley, clearly struggling to come up with a proper reply.

"Well, thank you," I said sarcastically. "So, what are we going to do about him?"

"Well, there's not really much we _can_ do, I guess," said Riley. "I mean, as long as things keep going smoothly, there's no reason to make a big fuss about it, right?" Sighing, I got up from the couch and started pacing across the room, tangling my fists in my hair along the way. "So, why'd you come to me with this?"

Immediately a little hurt by his question, I shot him an expression of painful shock, to which he immediately replied, "No, no, I didn't mean anything about _you_ or anything… You're… awesome; I just meant… why _me_ specifically?" When I finally smiled again, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nice save," I commented, rejoining him on the couch. "I came to you, Riley, because you're a nice guy. You're smart and you're great to work with. And, to be perfectly honest… I find you completely and utterly adorable." The smile on my face was as genuine as possible, and his seemed to be as well.

"Oh, um… really?" Clearly, Riley was not used to being called adorable by girls he was at least somewhat interested in.

"Um, _duh_!" I playfully declared, reaching out and lightly punching him in the shoulder.

"Oh… um, thanks," said Riley. When his face was still as red as a tomato, I was forced to laugh again.

"It's ok," I said knowingly. "Believe it or not, I used to be probably the most awkward human being on the face of the Earth." Finally, Riley's blush dissipated and he laughed as well. I opened my arms and he quickly scooted closer and leaned into a hug. "My _God_, you're so comfy!" I remarked once Riley was in my arms, causing me to hug him even tighter. It was true; he was wearing one of the thickest, comfiest sweatshirts I had ever felt, and hugging him was like hugging a giant, warm, living teddy bear.

We stayed in that wonderful position for quite a while before deciding to pull apart. "Thanks for talking to me," I said gratefully. I stood up, gathered my things, and began making my way over to the door. "I really needed someone, and you were the first person that came to mind."

"That must mean something," Riley suggested with a sheepish smile. Deciding to simply add to it, I stood on my tiptoes and placed a cute little kiss right onto his slight-scruffy cheek.

"Yeah," I agreed as I pulled back, "I think _that_ means something, too."

"Definitely," I heard Riley whisper as I walked away. Now, it was _my_ turn to blush.

* * *

The next two weeks passed by in a blur. Between Ben helping me study for my history exam (which I aced, thanks to him!), Ian taking me out on a couple more casual dates, and Riley somehow needing my help with putting together his tracking model for the _Charlotte_, along with work and studying on the side, I was constantly shifting from one place to another, with hardly a moment to myself.

It was like I had closed my eyes one second and opened them the next second to finally find myself staring into the sparkly white desert that was the coastal ice caps of Greenland.

Riley's seemingly-successful tracking model had taken all possible information about Arctic weather patterns to give us one most likely location for our mystery ship, and we were heading there at top speed on a pair of what I liked to call "snow trekkers," or massive all-terrain vehicles capable of traversing the vast Arctic ice. We were also covered head-to-toe in the highest quality of cold-weather gear for the trip.

I was grouped into one trekker with Ben, Ian, and Riley while the other was occupied by four of Ian's hired men (I had _no_ idea why he suddenly decided to bring them along, so I insisted on adopting an air of caution around them… no, actually, a _fog_ of caution).

After several hours of travel from our jumping-off point, Ben decided to strike up a conversation, as we had been nearly silent so far. "I was thinking about Hanson and Perry, crossing this kind of terrain with nothing more than dogsleds and on foot. Can you imagine?"

"It's extraordinary," remarked Ian, albeit with little interest. Shortly after, Riley's computer began to beep loudly, grabbing everyone's attention right away. "Are we getting closer?" Ian asked hopefully.

"Assuming Ben and Toni's theory is correct and my tracking model's accurate, we should be getting _very_ close," Riley announced, "but don't go by me; I broke a shoelace this morning." We all turned and raised our eyebrows at him. "It's… it's a bad omen," Riley explained.

"Shall we turn around and go home?" Ian joked.

"Or we could pull over and just throw him out here," Ben chimed in.

Riley gave a sarcastic laugh and went right back to his computer. "Don't worry, Riley," I said, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Tossing you out is _my_ job, and only if you misbehave or piss me off." I paired my wicked suggestion with a smirk, and Riley winked in reply. He and I had _really_ been hitting it off lately, and I was obviously _thrilled_.

"Understood," said Riley.

"Hey, Riley, you're not missing that little windowless cubicle we found you in, are you?" asked Ben.

"No, no, absolutely not!" Riley insisted, clearly not missing his days as the resident geek squad at a bigger-than-life-itself software company.

The beeping on his computer grew an order of magnitude louder, indicating that we had finally reached our destination. However, when we stopped the trekkers and stepped out into the snow, we found nothing but empty landscape before us.

"Why are we stopping?" asked Shaw, one of Ian's "henchmen," as I liked to call them. "I thought we were looking for a ship.

"I don't see any ship," remarked Powell.

"She's out there," Ben reassured us. As everyone stepped out and started gathering pickaxes and metal detectors, he pulled me aside. "Let's just hope our ambitions led us in the right direction, and we should pull out of this one step closer to the treasure."

"Absolutely," I said. "I'm just so glad I could be a part of this."

"So are we," said Ben.

Once everyone was situated with a metal detector, we all fanned out to cover as large an area as possible. After quite some time of nothing but sparse little beeps, Ben's metal detector began to beep like there was no tomorrow.

"Toni, over here!" he called out to me. I was at his side in an instant, and both of us quickly got to work with our pickaxes, digging away every bit of snow we could as our hearts beat a mile a minute. Finally, my frantic pulse nearly stopped short when our digging yielded the unmistakable _ding_ of a pickaxe striking metal.

"Oh, my God…" I breathed. The words _Boston, Massachusetts_ came into view, and finally, with the assistance of Ben's squirt-top water bottle, the one word we had all been so eager to see.

_Charlotte_.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the morning, we all worked together to clear away enough to snow to bring the broken, but still beautiful, ship into the sunlight.

At one point, I strayed from my duties as the figurehead came into view. She was a perfectly-carved young woman, with a bright smile and beautiful wavy hair. Slowly and carefully, I brought one of my gloved hands right up against her cheek while my eyes shed a single tear of joy.

"Beautiful," I suddenly heard Riley's voice behind me. With a sniffle, I wiped my eyes clear so Riley couldn't see my composure breaking.

"Yeah, it really is," I said with a happy sigh. "I can only imagine how Ben feels right now. I mean, I've been working with you guys for a few weeks and I'm this moved, but Ben's been searching for his whole _life_." Just as I was about to start legitimately crying, I heard Ben give a shout.

"Okay! Let's go!" he announced. In a single-file orientation, we all climbed down below deck.

Underneath the _Charlotte_'s main deck, everything was covered in a thin blanket of snow and ice, and it was so dark that we had to use flashlights to find our way around. Other than Riley panicking unnecessarily when he happened across a skeletonized crewman, nothing of interest happened until we reached a particular door at the other side of the deck.

"This is it!" Ben announced. "It's the cargo hold!" He wrenched the door open and we followed him inside. To everyone's dismay, we found nothing but several dozen barrels.

"You think it's in the barrels?" Riley wondered aloud, obviously referring to the treasure. Each of us cracked open a barrel and reached inside, but only to discover that all of them were full of a coarse, strong-smelling black powder.

"Gunpowder," Ian and I announced simultaneously.

"Expensive, yes," I said, "but not even _close_ to being a world-famous treasure."

It was then that Ben noticed a skeleton that was wearing a tricorn hat and lying in a corner. Its arms were stretched protectively around one barrel in particular. "Why would the captain be guarding _this_ barrel?" he wondered aloud.

"Too big of a coincidence," I said as Ben began freeing the barrel. "We should see what's inside."

Once Ben opened the barrel and tipped it to the side, a package wrapped in thick white cloth fell out. "I found something!" he called out. We all gathered around him as he brought the package over to a small table and untied the string. Being that I'm so short, I was having trouble seeing over everyone's shoulders. Riley caught on and immediately placed me in front of him while he simply peered over my shoulder.

Ben pushed aside the cloth to reveal an ornate wooden box with gold-filled engravings and carvings on the lid. He opened it to find a beautifully-carved white smoking pipe resting on an elegant blue velvet cushion. He picked it up as if he were handling a priceless artifact (which he pretty much was). "Do you guys know what this is?" he asked all of us.

"Is it a… billion-dollar pipe?" Riley asked.

"I've seen one like that in a museum before," I said as Ben handed it to me, "but I forget the name for it. God, it's on the tip of my tongue!"

"It's a meerschaum pipe," Ian announced as I passed the pipe along to him. "Ah, it's beautiful."

"Look at the intricacy of the scrollwork on the stem," said Ben.

"Is it a… million-dollar pipe?" Riley tried again.

"No, it's a clue," Ben corrected him. "Let me see that." He received the pipe back from Ian and proceeded to detach the stem.

"No, wait, don't break it!" Riley whined.

"We are one step closer to the treasure, gentlemen," Ben proudly declared, "…and lady." I couldn't help but smile my appreciation for his inclusion of me.

"Ben, I thought you said the treasure would be _on_ the _Charlotte_," Ian complained.

"No, the secret _lies_ with Charlotte," I impatiently corrected him. "Don't you remember?"

"That's right," said Ben. "I said it _could_ be here." Turning back to the pipe, he pulled off his gloves, took a knife from his pocket, and made a small cut in his thumb. He then rubbed his blood over the pipe stem, which he then rolled over a page in Ian's little field notebook.

"Templar symbols," I observed, peering around Ben's shoulder. "That's definitely a good sign."

Ben picked up the notebook and read aloud, "The legend writ… the stain effected… the key in Silence undetected… Fifty-five in iron pen… Mr. Matlack can't offend."

"It's a riddle," I said.

"I need to think," said Ben.

"Me, too," I said, joining him as he began to pace around the deck. Both of us had our legendary thinking faces on.

"The legend writ, the stain effected," Ben began to mutter. "What… legend? There's the legend of the Templar treasure… the stain affects the legend… how? The key in Silence undetected… _wait_."

"What is it?" I asked, sitting down beside him on a pair of barrels.

"The legend, the key… there's something," said Ben.

"A map!" I realized, jumping to me feet. "It's a map!"

"Yes, exactly," said Ben, looking up at me and nodding. "Maps have _legends_, maps have _keys_. It's a map… an invisible map."

"So, now-" I began.

"Wait a minute," Ian cut me off. "What do you mean, 'invisible'? An invisible map?"

"The…stain affected could refer to a dye or reagent used to bring about a certain result combined with the key in Silence undetected," Ben explained. "The implication is that the effect is to make what was undetectable detectable. Unless… the key in silence could be-"

"Prison," Shaw cut in.

"Albuquerque," Riley mocked. "See, I can do it, too. Snorkel." In an effort to give both Ben and myself time to think, I clamped my gloved hand over Riley's mouth. When I looked over at him, the glint in his eyes was enough to tell me that he was smiling.

"It's where the map is," Shaw insisted. "Like he said, fifty-five in Iron Penn; Iron Penn is a prison."

Ben cut in, "Or it could be since the primary writing medium of the time was iron Gaul ink, the pen is… just a pen. But then, why not say a pen? Why… why say iron pen?"

"Because it's a prison." Shaw definitely didn't want to give up on his prison theory.

Ben was on to something now. "Wait a minute, iron pen, the iron does _not_ _describe_ the ink in the pen."

"Exactly," I joined in. "It describes… _what_ was penned."

"It was iron, it was firm, it was mineral… no, no, no, wait a minute." Ben was attempting to piece things together. "It was _firm, _it was _adamant_, it was _resolved_… it was resolved… Mr. Matlack can't offend."

"Timothy Matlack was the official scribe of the Continental Congress, wasn't he?" I realized "But he was a calligrapher, not a writer."

"And to make sure he could not offend the map," Ben continued, smiling a knowing smile in my direction, "it was put on the back of a _resolution_ that he transcribed; a resolution that-"

"Fifty-five men signed," I finished for him. My cheeks were hurting from the width of my smile. I pressed a hand to my mouth in shock as a gasp of joy escaped from my lips.

"The Declaration of Independence," Ben and I concluded together.

To our great disappointment, everyone began to laugh a little, with Riley being the loudest. "Come on, there's no invisible map on the back of the Declaration of Independence," he insisted.

"That's clever, really," Ian said with a smirk. Finally, someone was on our side. "A document of that importance would ensure the map's survival. And you said there were several Masons signed it, yeah?"

"Yeah, absolutely," I said.

"Nine for sure," said Ben.

"We'll have to arrange a way to examine it," Ian declared.

"Ian, I don't think you understand," I said, glaring at him. "This is one of the most important documents in _history_. Our entire nation was _begun_ by that document _alone_."

"Exactly," said Ben, coming up at my side. "They're not just gonna let us waltz in there and run chemical tests on it."

"Then what do you propose we do?" asked Ian.

"I don't know!" Ben suddenly snapped.

There was an awkward moment of silence. "We could borrow it," Ian eventually suggested.

"Steal it?" Ben caught on right away.

"No!" I insisted, taking a step forward and facing Ian down. "Absolutely not! You know, I may have been letting a lot of things slide recently, but I am _definitely_ putting my foot down on that."

"Ben, Antonia," Ian began, taking me by the shoulders and gently pushing me back just a little. "The treasure of the Knights Templar is the treasure of all treasures."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Really?" Ben fired back.

"Gee, thanks for the history lesson, Ian," I joined in.

"Look, Ben," Ian began, realizing that he was getting nowhere with me. "I understand your bitterness; I really do. You've spent your entire life searching for this treasure only to have the respected historical community treat you and your family with mockery and contempt. You should be able to rub this treasure in their arrogant faces, and I want you to have the chance to do that."

"How?" Ben's pride seemed to be going south.

"We all have our areas of expertise," said Ian. "You don't think mine are limited to writing checks, do you?" _Oh, my God_, I thought to myself. _I was _right _about him!_ "In another life… I arranged a number of operations of… questionable legality."

_He's a criminal_, I thought. Another tear slipped from my eyes.

"I'd take his word for it if I were you," Shaw chimed in. His statement sounded less than friendly. In fact, he almost sounded like a veiled threat.

"So, don't worry," Ian concluded. "I'll make all the arrangements."

"No," Ben declared, getting up to stand Ian down. I was definitely starting to get seriously worried, so I reached out and pulled Riley behind me as I stood next to Ben.

"I really need your help here, Ben… Antonia." Ian stood to his feet as well and was sadly looking back and forth between the two of us.

"I'm _not_ gonna let you steal the Declaration of Independence!" Ben's mind was made up.

"Okay," Ian sighed. "From this point on, all you're going to be is a hindrance." At his beckoning, Shaw suddenly retrieved a gun from his pocket and pointed it right at Ben. I immediately shot a hand behind my back and grabbed one of Riley's hands.

"What're you gonna do? You're gonna shoot me, Shaw?" Ben taunted. "Well, you can't shoot me. There's more to the riddle: information you don't have; I do. I'm the only one who can figure it out and you know that."

"He's bluffing," Shaw insisted.

"We play poker together, Ian; you know I can't bluff," Ben joked.

"Tell me what I need to know, Ben." Ian was getting impatient. "Or I'll shoot your friends." Shaw pointed the gun at Riley, and that was the moment where my instincts kicked in. My trusty little Glock was in my hands and pointed at Shaw's heart in a matter of seconds.

"Don't… you… _dare_," I threatened, my finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

"You don't have the strength, Antonia," Ian scoffed at me. "You're not like us. A few little practice shots here and there doesn't give you the courage to shoot a human being."

"Hey!" Riley snapped in my defense.

"Quiet, Riley!" Ian ordered harshly. "Your job's finished here!" In a spark of brilliance, Ben pulled an emergency flare out of his pocket and ignited it against a barrel. Shaw pointed the gun back at him, but I still didn't lower mine.

"Look where you're standing," I pointed out.

"All that gunpowder…" Ben added. "You shoot me, I drop this, and we all go up."

"Tell me something, Antonia." Ian turned his attention back to me. "You know that if you come with us, you won't have to die for a losing cause, so why don't you?"

"I'm willing to die for a cause I believe in if I know that I'm doing the right thing!" I snapped back, my eyes filling to the brim with hot, angry tears. I could hardly see in front of me, but I couldn't risk letting my guard down, even long enough to just wipe my eyes clear. "And believe me, I would sooner die with Ben and Riley, knowing that I'm doing what's right, than follow you _any_ longer, Ian!"

"Ben, what happens when the flare burns down?" Ian pointed out. "Tell me what I need to know, Ben."

"You need to know…if Shaw can catch!" Ben tossed the flare out in front of him. I clamped my eyes shut just as Ian's quick reflexes allowed him to catch it.

"Nice try, though," Ian mocked. Then, everything was shot to hell. There must have been some stray gunpowder on Ian's sleeve, because it had caught on fire by the time I opened my eyes again. To my great horror, he dropped the flare out of shock, and it landed right onto a thick blanket of gunpowder.

_Oh, we are _so _totally_ _fucked!_

* * *

**Author's Note**: So, it looks like our darling Antonia has finally found her chosen team. Let's just hope she can survive Ian's eventual revenge…


End file.
